


Dead or Alive

by AlleiraDayne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Biker AU, F/M, Flirtying, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 17:30:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21359995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleiraDayne/pseuds/AlleiraDayne
Summary: Sam stops in at his favorite watering hole outside Reno.
Relationships: Sam Winchester/Natalie Murphy, Sam Winchester/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 3





	Dead or Alive

**Author's Note:**

> For SPN Fluff Bingo 2019, this fills the square Biker AU. It has turned out to be one of my favorite one-shots from this bingo.

The roadhouse outside Reno wavered in the distant haze of desert heat as though a mirage, calling to him. But Sam knew that watering hole. That sanctuary, the only one for a hundred miles in any direction, welcomed the road weary and travelworn, real as the boots on his feet. 

A long morning had led to a scuffle in a motel. He’d lost track of Dean again, but he wasn’t much for longer rides any more. And Sam wasn’t about to give up the open road or his ride. Dean preferred his baby, the Impala. That was fine. Sam preferred his bike, its graveyard green mist paint on a field of black. 

As the roadhouse solidified in the distance, Sam torqued the throttle and shifted into low gear, a burst of speed hurtling him towards the bar. The roar of the exhaust drowned out any other sounds around him, and that was the way he preferred it. Just him and his horses, all one hundred sixty of them pumping out one hundred six foot-pounds of torque. 

The building raced up to meet him in a matter of seconds at that speed, and Sam pulled into the soft dirt lot. But just as he rounded the corner for the shady side of the lean-to, he pulled up short, narrowly missing a line of bikes all neatly packed in a line facing the bar. 

New blood in town. Great.

Finding the last space of good cement left at the end of the line, Sam parked his bike and killed the motor. One long leg swung over the seat, and he stretched his hands high over his head as he removed his helmet. Long hours on a motorcycle rode hard on his joints, but that was a small cost to pay for the freedom of the open road. The freedom to go wherever he wanted whenever he wanted. 

As Sam rounded to the front of the bar, he retied his bandana and fixed his hair in the mirror of a nearby bike. After taking a moment to admire the custom paint job—a demon barely dressed with black as night leathery wings, ample breasts, impossibly wide hips, and a come-hither gaze that rivaled most porn—Sam headed inside the bar. 

Not a soul paid him any kind as he pushed through the door, the bell overhead twinkling its bright chime. The bar itself had space for fifty men, but no one stood at the shiny aged oak. Not even the bartender. 

Everyone sat crowded around a table upon which sat a young woman in leather riding gear and denim, her bandana around her neck. Long black hair flowed in waves down her shoulders as she leaned back on her hands and her chin raised with laughter. That lilting song called to Sam as though she were a Siren and he a sailor out on the open ocean, her prey. Helplessly drawn to her voice, her presence, Sam drifted towards the table subconsciously, unaware of his moving feet. The men that sat around her appeared nothing short of her thrall, her dedicated pack. 

At the last second, Sam course corrected for the bar, but not before his gaze connected with the woman. Though she did her best to hide it, Sam knew without a doubt she had taken stock of him head to toe and had marked him. 

But for death or otherwise, Sam couldn't be sure. 

The bartender materialized from the back of the bar as Sam approached, a fresh case of Steveweisers in his hands. Haggard, he appeared old enough to be Sam's father, so many miles on his motor and too many left to go. He nodded in acknowledgment as he set the case near a short refrigerator on the back wall of the bar, then held up a hand, silently asking for a second’s respite. 

“Take your time, no rush,” Sam said as he sat on a stool. 

A subtle shift in the air beside him piqued his senses. Someone from the rowdy group approached him from behind, and the hair on the back of his neck prickled, standing on end. Every muscle tensed as he readied himself, steeled for the fight of a century, ten on one. A lone wolf against the pack. 

“Hey, Stranger.” 

If Sam had a say, she’d call him that the rest of their days, and he would die a happy man. Over his shoulder he found the petite woman standing behind him, a casual lean of her weight, spine straighter than an arrow, and chin held high. Sam nodded to her as he waved. “Afternoon, miss.” 

She pointed to an empty stool next to him. “Mind if I join you?” 

A polite biker. Few and far between, they were. “Not at all. What can I get you?” 

“Double of Walker Blue, if you’re buyin’,” she said with a wink. 

Sam winced as he dug his wallet out of his pocket. “Oh, honey, you’re gonna clean my pockets out on the first date?” 

Her laughter filled the bar once more as she threw back her head and clutched her stomach. “I was just pullin’ your—” 

“Two doubles of Walker Blue, Bobby,” Sam interjected, addressing the bartender. 

Bobby stood from his stocking and reached for a dark blue bottle on the highest shelf of the back wall. “Celebratin’?” 

Eyes like a hawk, the woman surveyed their interaction with great scrutiny. She followed his hand as Sam slipped a hundred-dollar bill across the bar, then flicked to Bobby where he poured out their generous drinks. When he slid the glass tumblers across the oak grain, Sam handed one to his drinking partner and toasted. 

“Yeah, we’re celebrating. New friends.” 

The woman grinned as she hefted her glass. “To new friends.” 

Smooth as butter, his whiskey melted in his throat, warming his entire body in a rush of consumption. “You sure know how to pick ‘em.” 

A long draw from her glass bobbed her throat, and Sam couldn’t help but stare. Long and sleek, the line of her jaw drew his eyes down, down, down as she drank until he stared at the plunging neckline of her vest displaying her cleavage. 

When she returned her glass to the bar, she held out her hand and said, “Natalie. Natalie Murphy. I run that pack o’ brigands back there.” 

Sam swallowed as he took her hand in his. “Sam Winchester. Loner.” 

A firm shake squeezed his hand as she beamed up at him. “Sam. What a pleasure.” 

He sipped from his drink. “I can assure you, Natalie, the pleasure is all mine,” he said. 

“A gentleman biker,” she mused. “What brings a wolf like yourself ‘round these parts? Not much besides Bobby here for a hundred miles.” 

“Hey—” 

“Love you, Bobby.” 

Bobby smiled from beneath the bar. “That’s my little girl.” 

It was Sam’s turn to side-eye, sensing more than a passing relationship between Natalie and Bobby. “Well, I’ve been stopping in here for years. Since I was a pup. Every couple weeks, my dad would bring us through here on the way to another town. When my dad died, my brother and I made it a point to keep visiting. Keep the geezer on his toes. Right, Bobby?” 

“That’s right, Sammy,” Bobby replied. 

“What about you?” Sam asked as he turned back to Natalie. “You look like you’ve been here a time or three hundred before.” 

Natalie laughed as she swallowed another draw of her drink. “I was practically raised in this damn bar. Can’t remember a time where I wasn’t here damn near every day. Parents died young, I fell in with a rough crowd. But you find family in the strangest places.” 

Bobby’s smiled matched Sam’s. “Ain’t that the truth.” 

Natalie nodded. “Garth and his boys found me hustlin’ one night about three towns over,” she continued. “I thought that was the end. I’d be their plaything for a few weeks, then I’d end up somewhere in the middle of the desert feeding the vultures.” 

A pregnant pause filled the space between them, compelling Sam to speak. “That’s… I’m so sorry you went through that.” 

“Nah,” Natalie said as she waved a dismissive hand. “They took care of me. Garth had been running the group for a while, when it was small. But he wanted me in because he thought I could take over. Grow the brand. And I did. Pack’s a hundred strong now.” 

Relieved, Sam breathed easier. “Glad to hear you found a good group.” 

Natalie leaned closer to him. “You could join us if you want. Wouldn’t need to ride solo ever again,” she paused as she licked her lips and eyed him head to toe and back. “I’d love to ride with you.” 

A twitch of want in his groin strained against his pants. “We talkin’ bikes or beds, honey?” 

Her glass pressed to her lips as she said, “Both.” 

Christ. All she had to do was look at him with those fierce blue eyes. Sam resisted the urge to pin her to the bar and fuck her until his balls ran dry. And if he had read her right, Natalie wouldn’t mind. In fact, she seemed like the kind of gal that would deeply enjoy everything he could give her. Sure, he was tender and kind and sweet. He loved that part about himself; so many people in the world lacked those qualities for one reason or another. But, there was something to be said about sharing a more primal, raw urge with another who reveled in that sort of experience. 

And by the glint in Natalie's eyes, Sam knew without a doubt that she would give him a run for his money. 

“Do you think we'll even make it out the door?” he asked. 

“What, you worried about them?” Natalie replied as she looked back at her table. The men cajoled with one another as they played cards and dice and swilled their beers. A warm smile spread across her lips as she looked upon them so lovingly. “They're a bunch of puppy dogs. Wouldn't harm a fly. 'Specially if I told them not to.” 

Sam drained his drink and shoved his glass across the bar. “Then let's hit the road.” 

Natalie finished her whiskey in one swallow and slipped from her stool. “Where to?” 

As Sam turned for the door, he looked north and pointed. “There’s a motel about an hour and a half away. Been there quite a few times.” 

When Natalie pulled the door aside, every sound in the bar stopped with a record- scratch of chairs on wood. Her pack stood all at once, ready to pounce at the sight of their queen shadowed by an outsider. 

“I'll be back tomorrow, guys,” she started. “Don't wait up.” 

“Have a good time, Murph!” Garth teased. 

“Go get some, baby girl!” Bobby shouted from the bar. 

“Yeah, yeah, shut your pieholes,” Natalie jeered. 

“You take good care of her, son, you hear me?!” Ash called.

“I'll do my best, sir,” Sam said as he followed Natalie into the blazing desert sunshine. 

“If she don’t come back in the morning walkin' funny, I’ll make sure you leave that way!” 

The click of the door shutting punctuated that last jest. “He shouldn’t make idle threats. I have half a mind to go back in there and invite him to join us,” Sam teased. 

Natalie rounded the side of the bar, her bright laughter echoing in the distance. “Careful, Sam. Gabby would take you up on that offer. And not because he's got the hots for me. I watched him eye you up and down the second you walked in the bar.” 

Sam laughed as he stopped beside his bike. “He’s quite the looker, too.” 

“He is. And while I’m not opposed to the idea of fucking a few people in the same bed, I don’t take my pack mates. Favoritism and all that. Gets messy.” 

“But you want me to join your crew. What then? We don’t get to do this again?” Sam asked as he swung a leg over his bike. 

Natalie approached the motorcycle Sam had admired earlier. “I think I can make an exception for the likes of you.” 

“I'm flattered. And by the way,” he paused as he dropped his gaze between her thighs. “Nice bike.” 

Natalie flipped her head over and gathered her hair in her helmet. Clasped in place, she ensured it secure with a shake. “Thanks. Built her myself, paint and all.” 

“She's hot,” Sam added. 

“Ruby’s been good to me.” Again, she smiled fondly as a gloved hand smoothed the side of the tank. Then she grasped the handle bars and centered her balance. “Shall we?” 

Sam shifted his bike and snapped back his kickstand. A thunderous roar filled the empty desert as their motors ignited with life, hers a loud crackle, and his a deep rumble. With his helmet on and sunglasses in place, he turned to Natalie and found her face shrouded by shades and her bandana over her nose. She gave him a thumbs up, and Sam responded in kind. 

A clunk of gears put him in first, and he twisted into the throttle. Combustion propelled him towards the road, and Natalie followed, the bright whine of her motor hot on his heels. 

Together they drove into the sun as it set, two wandering souls, neither lost nor found, but always searching. And as Sam rode beside her, an easy feeling settled in his chest. He welcomed it, reveled in it without reservation, and as they sped into the great wide open, he thought he could get used to it. 

Maybe he didn't have to go it alone after all. Maybe, with Natalie by his side, leading the pack, he might enjoy the ride like he had never before. And if her lusty gaze had meant anything, he was headed for the ride of a lifetime. 

Bikes and beds, Sam Winchester couldn't wait to ride with Natalie forever. 


End file.
